Hero (Khehth)
by Superkaradamnvers
Summary: An AU where Kara arrives on Earth on time and grows up caring for Clark, and becoming a hero all on her own.
1. Falling Stars (Snapshot, Cat)

The night when you stare at the stars glinting brightly in the sky, a nightly passion for you when your work schedule allows it, is a time for you to wonder what lies beyond them all. Is there more? Is there life? When you stand there one night, not even from home, but from your new, unpacked apartment in the middle of the National City slums, you see two stars fall from the sky blazing colour and light across the heavens.

You sigh at the beauty of it, and turn back to your tiny apartment, boxes and clothes everywhere, and get back to work. You're a journalist, a reporter, and you've just come to National City. A vision in your young mind. And yes, maybe the idea of power is a bad one at your age, your mother Katherine tells you as much every day, but you're all alone now. The world at your feet. There for the taking. And you wonder. What will your life become?

Answer: You make your life. It does not make you. You're a person who won't let up. This, you know of yourself like you know your hair colour is messy dirty blonde and your eyes and a hazel green. You're so intelligent, so in tune to the world and all of its faults. You're smart. You know this of yourself, even though anyone else would miss it entirely. You're smart in other ways, ways others don't see. This is why you know you'll make it. You know you'll catch that dream, and others will hate you along the way. But that's who you are, you're a dreamer, and even hate won't stop you. Nothing will.

You grew up as an a-class student, then in journalism you did the exact same. You didn't watch much in kids television when you were a child, nor did you play a lot. Your time was spent in books, learning, chasing your dreams even as a kid. Your father supported your every word, told you you'd be whatever you desired. And later, he told you that you would be a CEO, and that you'd be everything you want to. Your mother, on the other hand, always felt you didn't live up to your potential. But then again, that was what had made you yourself, hard as diamonds, sharp as a bullet, and just as straight to the point. You grew up walking on lava, dodging missiles, coming to expect them even so you could avoid them, and that was why now, at 22, you're stronger than you'd ever thought you'd be.

In getting to this point, you'd formed walls, surrounded yourself by rules and cold harsh reality, so you could outwit it. You had no time for fairytales, fantasy, magic. You didn't think any of it was worthy to you, and that was why the stars outside your window that night, those falling stars of fire, were nothing more than a simple distraction for a few seconds. That was all.

But that night, you'd been oddly restless, hadn't been able to sleep. You'd also watched the sun come up the next morning, and it had seemed brighter than you'd ever thought possible, than you could ever remember.

You don't believe in fantasy. You don't believe in dreams. Soulmates, fate, such things as angels and cherubs, you simply don't believe in such childish dreams.

Which is why, the next day, when you're walking towards the bus stop to catch it and go to begin your new life, just enough money in your bag to begin your dreams, you ignore that you notice something odd about the girl sitting on the sunny bench by the stop sign for the bus. She's just a kid, maybe 11 or 12, of no consequence. A complete stranger. But there's something about her, whether it's the auburn hair that's long enough to hit her hips, or the straight set of her jaw, or the baby boy she's holding in her arms, you can't place it, but she's got you looking. There's just something about her that requires your attention, and that's something, because usually the only thing that needs your attention is you and your work.

You stop and wait while the bus slowly rolls up the street, still two stops to go, and you glance again at the girl that's cradling the small child. Hers? No, certainly not. She can't be more than 15. Not even...

She looks up at you, mild curiosity, and your heart skips a beat in your chest, because her eyes are so blue. So so very blue. And bright. Like sapphires cut to fit, and framed with the longest lashes you've ever seen if they were not fake. For some reason, you see the night before, the falling stars you saw from your apartment balcony, and you wonder what connection there is in your mind for those images to come together. How does she link to those, a plain stranger on the street?

You stare regardless, seeing stars and constellations in your own mind, and you realize her blue eyes look ancient. Like she's seen more then you ever will. It looks as if there are stars in her eyes, the stars you're seeing in your mind, and damn, you are drawn by the wild colour. So blue. So bright. She looks at you still, and those eyes are sad. So sad. But determined, if nothing else. She is strong, you can see it. And now, the baby boy in her hands, barely months old, also has those eyes. He's peeking at her now, reaching up with chubby hands, and she looks back at him and smiles slightly. He's not her child, there's no way he could be, with her young age, but then, he looks just like her. The same chin, jaw, eyes, even if his short ruffled hair is a stark black compared to her wild reddish shade.

The bus stops and you climb on, looking back at her, holding the door open. ''Are you taking a ride as well?'' You ask her kindly, and she meets your eyes again, sadness welling in their depths, and for a minute you wonder if she understands you. She seems so lost and out of place in this world, wearing a plain white dress that barely covers her thighs, similar white slacks and white combat boots that look new and fresh, even though she seems battered and hurt. Way too much for her young life. You sense she knows pain more than most, and that hurts most of all to you, but you wonder still.

Maybe she's just waiting. For a friend. For a parent. Being a loyal daughter. You have to assume, it's what you do, and you have no reason to do anything else.

She shakes her head slowly, messing up her red veil of hair, and you smile at her, releasing the door, and it closes, separating you from the girl, a total stranger, and she turns her head to look at some of the people that had gotten off, then startled, as the bus begins movement again, and takes off slowly. You watch her even as the bus pulls away, her attention back on the infant in her arms, and you force yourself to forget. It's none of your consequence, and you wonder idly as the bus speeds up and jostles you in your seat, why you care so damn much about a girl you haven't even heard a word from.

The next time you see her is 3 weeks later, and the sight jostles you to your core in every way, though you still cannot understand why. You're seeing stars again, cherubs and angels and all sorts of unrealistic things, and you shake your head even as you keep eyes on her, wondering what's causing these visions. You feel faint, even slightly dizzy, and suddenly regret the 4 espresso shots you had that morning at the Pilot street cafe.

But even so, something about seeing her here, combing through sales racks, looking at price tags, a plastic bag with a 2 litre carton of milk and two boxes of baby crackers in her hand, you feel sympathetic towards her. She's a child, and yet either she's being told to shop for the family when she's merely 13 at the youngest, or she's, and you hope to godly deities that you don't really believe in, that she isn't actually alone. You hope she's not homeless, but right now, she looks a lot like it. She also seems to have two frozen dinners and a small loaf of bread in that bag, and you sigh sadly at the sight. You watch her from the rack of blazers you were combing through for a professional suit, and you think. Why is she here? Who is she? And most importantly, is she okay?

You watch as she pulls a light grey tank top out of the $5 bin and holds it up, tilting her head curiously as the material slips through her fingers, then folds it and leans down to take the boy by his hand, the boy is with her again! It shocks you to your core, the fact that she has him along again, let alone the fact that she looks so messy and cold. Hurt. Sad. She looks... awful, honestly.

''Zhgam gem, Kahl Ehl. Kryp tulem bem llep guhlogh.'' She says, and you tilt your head at the bell, chirp like voice she has, like sunshine, like diamonds, but broken. And you don't even try to decipher the language, you can't make out one word of it. It's unlike anything you've heard before.


	2. Starfire (Snapshot, Cat)

You're 23 before you see her again. Time stops the second you do, because you almost forgot about her unique eyes in the last 6 months. Your work to build your dreams has kept you so so busy that you almost forgot everything other than the name ringing in the forefront of your mind. Cat Co. Cat Co. Cat Co. You swear to yourself that you'll make it happen, and for the time in months of work, you feel like you actually might. You're well on your way to getting there, and you've never felt more proud of your efforts. Which is why when you're walking along Pilot street and nearly run into an energetic blonde beauty next to a cafe, you almost trip over your feet when startled, familiar blue eyes meet your hazel green ones.

It's her, you only realize that now. And she looks better, you gather as you look over her. Not amazing, not by a long shot, but your heart is tripping over itself at the sight of her, and that's something you've never felt before, it's not something you've ever let yourself feel before.

Her hair is faded now. It's no longer auburn red, it's a dark gold, messy remaining red softened by golds and blonds, shifting and changing down her back in a sleek thick mass. It's a messy blonde, much like your own, but a bit darker still. She's let her bangs grow out, and she looks infinitely older without them covering up her porcelain smooth skin, and her hair is slick and smooth, a mass falling just past her hips. She looks... beautiful, even in her light blue crop top that doesn't hide anything on a strong waist, and shorts that show off thigh and all, mile long legs, down to black cork wedge pumps, a stark contrast to her smooth tanned skin.

Bold blue eyes stare into yours, and even though she's still a child, looks just like one, her features have hardened into more set levels, and you can't resist a smile at this beauty. She has knowledge now, somewhat, and it's bold in her blue eyes, making them a little colder and darker with thought, anger, rules, but no less stunning. She's wild underneath, and you want to know her, you can't explain it, but you really do. You want to know all about her, and that's very unnerving to you, someone who's learned that the less attention you spend on others, the more effective you will be in your quest. But this one... there's constellations in those blue eyes, and being a journalist, you really want to stare long enough to connect the dots.

''Sorry.'' She whispers, and your lips part regardless of your own rules or temperament. You're a cold person. You can't build an empire by being kind and sweet and by being a wallflower. But this girl, she's making you break those rules, and you wonder why you're so easily letting it happen. Why you're not pushing her out of your way and moving on. You don't know, but your standing there watching her as she spins her face around and steps forward quickly to scoop up a toddler, and you realize he's the one again. Maybe it is hers, you think, and smile slightly, something you rarely do, because you're too above that kind of sweetness, even at your young age. She scoops him into her arms easily, turning back to you, a silly fire truck red messenger bag with cupcakes and flowers on it hanging off one of her shoulders, and smiles brightly, and you feel your heart take a double beat, because no smile should be that radiant.

''It was my fault, I bumped into you.'' You say curtly, and plan to step around her, but her eyes hold you, just as they did the first time at that bus stop, and you look down at the boy in her arms, and yes, his eyes stare as well, the same wild blue, the same inhumanly possible colour. You watch as she speaks to him, her voice sweet like honey but stern in her instruction, and you wonder again what language she is speaking, it's like nothing you've ever heard before, oddly lyrical.

"Zha, Kal El. Klarhk. Zha lor."

And then she looks to you, her voice softening as she exhales and gives you another kind smile, and finally speaks the first actual English sentence you hear from her.

"I'm sorry. He is... always running... the second I stop looking."

You would ask what language she spoke a moment ago at her son, is it her son?, but it seems too forward when you've only really met her now, and when you don't even know her yet. So instead you ask her name, and the way she looks at you, her head tilted in curiosity, well, your seeing angels again, and this time, with her wild gold hair glittering in the light breeze, those angels are singing, and it's a song you've never ever heard before. And when she whispers her name, it sounds like a song all on it's own, and you have to smile, because you'd never thought a name could sound so pretty. But then, you realize, her silken voice could make any name sound pretty. Even yours, a stark single syllable. She could do it, and suddenly you realize she could do anything, it really feels that way. You can't explain why that is, this sudden obsession you have, with this beautiful stranger.

"Kara. My name is Kara."


	3. Angels Among Us (Snapshot,Kara)

That night you dream of green eyes, mixed with gold. Like stars. Like planets you still vividly remember every time you close your eyes. It makes you sad to remember it all, it brings you into tears. But finally, for the first time in your young 2 months on this planet, you've found something that truly makes you feel... lifted. And that's without your many powers. You feel happy when you see her, a different kind of happy.

And you see her very little, barely at all. Three times now you've bumped into this radiant woman with wavy golden hair and these special copper/green eyes that match the eyes of the cat that you see in the alley outside your loft all the time. Yes, three. You're counting. You've figured out numbers now. A little bit.

You have barely $100 to your name, another number, it's nothing really. But it's something you own now, and that's uplifting. It's something, considering you are, no, would be homeless, were it not for the other kind person in this city with pretty green eyes and dark auburn hair. Her eyes are green too, but not like the other woman's are. Hers are simply stunning. This woman is less stunning but pretty nonetheless, in a down to Earth kind of way, simple but sophisticated.

You can't afford to really be picky, it's not as if you can afford your own place, and she was kind enough to give you a place to stay. You couldn't really say no, you didn't have a choice despite not wanting to impose, and so you gratefully nodded.

You didn't want to impose on her privacy, but considering the circumstances, it's all you can do. You have a mission, and that it to protect Kal. Above all else. And at least this woman has a warm place to live in, and you finally have something warm and comfy around you, a soft blanket that she gave you.

At least it's not outside, and it's dry. Kal seems happier here, sleeping in your arms against your side right now. He's such a young child, doesn't know anything yet about what you are fighting to control. But at least you have something that isn't wet after the rain earlier, and she gave you a tank top that's too big but it's dry nonetheless.

Her name is Lois. The name rings off your foreign tongue, unexpected and odd, but you find you like the name. It's pretty. It's grounding in this busy world that you don't understand.

Life. Work. Money. That's all that this world is, you've gathered. All day you sell you're little trinkets, hoping that anyone will buy them. And people do. There's good people in this city that you crashed into. Lots of them. They are friendly and kind, and they buy your little decorations sometimes. You don't make much, but it's still something, and right now, something is a lot. All day you stand here wait, and Kal waits with you. He is a good child, smart even in his young innocent life.

So hurt, both of you. Dropped into a new and different world, where nothing is the same as Krypton. No red skies, no crystal towers, no rockets or pods like the one you and your cousin were in. It hurts. A lot. This world is prehistoric compared to yours, but yet these people thrive here among the dust and noise, always on the move.

Somehow they thrive in here, always heading somewhere, hustling from one stop to another, whether on foot or on these boxes that move. Either built for one or watch and learn intently, because you need to learn all this if you want to thrive here too.

You're little stand is across from a building that is apparently a media company, it says the Tribune on the top. It's not finished, Lois says, in the process of being built, some floors being remade, and you wonder about this, you watch them build it all day long. Apparently it's a workplace, and Lois says maybe one day you will work there.

You asked her why, but she says you're too young to work. But she lets you sell your little decorations when you seem adamant about making money. Right now it's all you can do. So you do. And so does she. And you become somewhat friends with her. She has hair like you do, like you did on Krypton, and she cares about you, it seems.

You know from TV, that speaking box in the corner of the space you sit in with Lois, that most people are not this nice to homeless children. Teens. And there's lots that have no place to live at all. Honestly you're grateful, and you pray to Rao every morning, because honestly, truly, you seem to have found a sliver of hope and light among the dust of Earth.

But there's something else too. When you see that other woman, sitting on the ledge to the building you can now say you temporarily live in, talking to the sweet old man that is seems to guard the place, you immediately look up, and she stops to smile at you, and you can't resist a smile.

"Hi, Kira. I didn't expect to find you in this spot of the city. Coincidence?" She smiles softly, and you are drawn by those brilliantly bright eyes, intelligence swelling in the copper depths. She's a smart one, and somehow you sense power around her, even though it makes no human sense to you. She seems like she belongs here, like she has a mission, and you nearly forget to speak in the face of being so near her.

"Uh, hi..." You whisper softly, unable to speak straight in her presence, and the guard steps up to shake her hand.

"Ms. Grant, what brings you to this corner of the city?"

"Oh my job. Journalism, you know? It's not easy."

"Grant?" You can't help but ask, curious about her name.

"Catherine. Catherine Grant. Well I must go, but it was nice seeing you Kira. How are you?Where's your son?"

"I'm fine. Uh, he's my cousin." You say without thought, and she smiles this grin that you sense doesn't show often, and you feel your heart flip in your chest.

"I see. Well it was wonderful seeing you Kira. I hope this isn't the last time we meet."

You watch her walk away, sandwich forgotten in your lap, until the guard breaks you out of your stance and you remember reality, not heaven with angels. And their singing again, and you love it, you're becoming addicted to the song they sing.

"Huh?" You ask, and he smiles kindly, Oscar is his name.

"You know her?" He asks.

"Uh, yeah. Kinda."


	4. Someone To Trust (Snapshot, Kara)

Her name is Catherine. Catherine Grant. She says you can call her Cat. You smile, and say her name slowly, it sounds strange on your tongue, your alien tongue doesn't know how to work it. But you like it. Something about it is nice...

Again. Cat. Like the animal in the alley is a cat. Seems oddly fitting, you think, and smile softly at her, holding Kal by the hand so he doesn't escape.

It's been months since you saw her last, and you say you're fifteen now. On Krypton you would have been inducted to a section now that you would serve in, but here, you're as free as a bird. They fly high above you, and it's not so high you realized quite quickly by accident, when you realized you could also fly. And you have. You smirk at the memory, but push it away for the moment. It's forbidden to fly, and even more to tell anyone, so you don't. Only when you're alone, do you chance it. And then Kal laughs at you. He can fly too, but doesn't know how to work it yet. That, could be a blessing in disguise, considering the importance of hiding it.

Seeing is believing they say, and you definitely believe that Catherine Grant is somehow special. She stands out from the rest, and you don't know what to make of that. They don't seem to notice, the people in the city, but you do. You've always been perceptive, Alura said. And now, you know she's different. You don't understand it, or why your heart jumps at the mention of her name, like now. She's not here, but you've been doing your homework and you can read a tiny bit now. And this is something she wrote, Lois tells you. You read it avidly, what you can read of it.

You treasure this piece of paper with your heart, like you treasure Kal. You're so lost in it, distracted by her words that you don't even feel it when a bike crashes right into you and people stop. They don't stop because you might be injured, they stop because the bike is lying on the floor, mangled. You, haven't budged. You stand as before, and realize what just happened.

But you have no time to react, no time to move, until Lois pulls you away from the staring crowd and into an alley beside a store, Kal at your hip, clutching your skirt.

"What happened back there, Kara?" Lois asked in awe as she crouched before you. You just stutter as she does the human thing and checks your legs for an injury, and looks at you curiously when she finds not a scratch on your skin, not a speck of blood anywhere. "How... are you not hurt?"

"Um... I..." You stutter, panicked, unable to speak, unsure of how. What do you say? What can you say to cover your secret now?

"Kara... I need you to explain to me what happened back there. I won't tell anyone." She says.

You gape for a second, unsure of how she could know. But then, she's perceptive too, just like you. You realize then keeping a secret from her would be impossible, she knows way too much already for her young at heart mind.

You stare at her, unsure, and then sigh sadly, nodding at her.

"I'm... different." You mutter, and she smiles slightly, though she's obviously shocked, and stands, taking you by the hand.

"Come with me. I need to hear all about this." She says softly, and leads you back to her home. "It's okay, you're safe with me darling."

You smile slightly at the nickname, despite your tears that you're trying to hold back, and nod simply, tugging Kal along. You don't know what to do next, and only hope she doesn't make you leave. Because you're an alien. That's what they call you here. And aliens are bad, you've gathered that.

They make films about aliens, you've watched one, don't know what they make of it. So you just walk. Whatever you can do, you can keep walking. And smiling. Because you've also seen a movie about a hero. And you like those movies a lot. Whatever it is, you have to be ok.


	5. Wisdom (zrhig) (Snapshot,Lois)

You spend the next weeks wondering about reality. What is considered impossible, true, fantasy? You don't know the answer to that anymore. After she showed you, you truly don't know anymore. She was in tears, poor thing, and it hurt to see her like that, even though you truly don't know her all that well. She's hurt, and that hurts you, things like that always have.

You saw something in her eyes from day one, and it wasn't the sadness and hurt and pain that turned her eyes dark and cold. You saw galaxies, and aliens. And something broken and lost. Pain. Tragedy.

So you took her to your loft, you couldn't very well leave her on the street now could you? She's a child. You know it's illegal, it really isn't smart, but you can't exactly leave her behind. And that was weeks ago. She is grateful at her age, and she's truly kind and sweet despite the fact that she sidesteps most of your questions. And you know why now.

She isn't human. After the bike accident, she seems to know that she can't hide this anymore, so she shows you her secret. And her secret, you aren't surprised she tried to hide it. Suddenly you have a tearful, floating, alien in your living room. She hovers a few feet from the ground, and her cousin laughs at her, clapping.

You, stare in shocked surprise at her, wondering what the hell is happening or whether that extra espresso shot was a bad idea for your brain cells. But no, you realize. It's all real. She can fly. And she tells you her cousin will be able to as well. For the next 3 hours you talked and listened to her talk about her home. Which is gone. And destroyed. And that hurts like hell for her, you realize quite quickly.

By the time she's finished, she's in your lap after crying herself to sleep, and you discover that you can't let her go. She might be able to fly. She might be something otherworldly. She and her cousin might be deadly, even, Kryptonian as she said she was, but you care for her nonetheless.

That stuns you, and you don't know what to make of it, but she's here, safe for the time being, and you feel yourself wanting to make sure she stays safe. At least until she can make it on her own. You don't know how, or when, but you know above all you will care for her. You love her already, as if she were your own, and you feel such sympathy for her.

Nobody should lose what she has, and that hurts you, to know her pain.

—

You try to be nonchalant all day, to work on the headlines and articles as expected. But the articles are about Kara now, and you really try to remain calm about it, quiet and unassuming. But you know more than you ever let on, and right know that couldn't be more true.

How are you supposed to write an article on the accident, the girl that didn't seem at all hurt, when behind the scenes, you know exactly why she's okay?

You ignore it as best you can, and when you get home, you spend the evening with Kara, explaining to her what to you is the best cover you can think up to keep her safe. And really, it's no different from what you've already had her do, what she's been doing on her own, but you take it to a new level, to protect her. And it seems to work. At least to a point.

In the next few weeks you settle into a quiet solitude with her, and this continues behind everyone's back until she can seemingly be on her own, and you regret the day 2 years later that you must let her go, even though you are so proud of her. She's strong now, beautiful and smart, and you are so so happy for her.

She's 18, barely, and so beautiful. She looks like a rare angel, and after two hard years of fighting to keep her safe, and teaching her the ways of the world, you let her go. Because girls like this, they just fly. And fly she can, oh yes. But she doesn't. You've taught her well.

But just because you're letting her go doesn't mean she's not with you. She is one of your best friends now, you spend a ton of time together. You smile as she says goodbye and hangs up the phone, and you stare at the receiver for a moment, gauging all this. You've moved, since then. You're in Metropolis now. Daily Planet. Change. Life. And she's stayed in National City.

She works, has an apartment in the city, and she seems calm and somehow content with her cousin. There is really no way to say it but that she seems happy. You know deep down she hurts, but she's so so beautiful and smart and everything, and she'll get through it the same way she gets through everything. With a grin.

You smile as you go back to your work at your desk, and stop when you land on a paper with Cat Grant's name and article beneath it. You smirk, and sigh. Cat Grant. Upcoming Media Mogul. Reporter. Rising on the bar. You really have been hearing the name more lately, and for some freaky reason, you sense something will happen soon, and it'll be rather interesting.

You wish you knew ahead of time what it was, because you sense it involves Kara, and will change her forever.


	6. Beautiful (zrhueaio) (Snapshot, Kara)

"There are stars in her eyes, diamonds sitting on her lashes, and even more around her neck, and her outfit is worth thousands. Her eyes are like grass, her hair like a halo of gold, her smile able to deminish sadness completely. But she doesn't smile much, only at rare things that she really really loves."

You can't stop smiling at the thought of her. Can't stop talking to her. Dreaming about her. And everyone you know tells you what you must be feeling is love, that you are in love with her.

You deny it, of course you do. You, in love?

Certainly not.

And with her? How could you be? You don't see her often enough to be in love, do you? Love at first sight, they claim. Love at first light.

You don't know if that exists, but she makes you feel all the symptoms of it, and it scares you.

Lois told you that friends are dangerous, and your secrets make that even more true for you. You have secrets that could be your end, and to never ever _ever_ tell. Not to anyone. And you don't. You don't have friends. You don't have family. You don't need love. But my god with her, this Cat Grant, you feel it. It is sick, really, and broken, and hurtful, to you at least.

Love is the same as friends. It's getting close to people, talking to people, and while you live amongst them, you are so scared of getting any closer. Even now, as you walk into the coffee shop where you work, and adjust your glasses on your nose as you do, to help with the overwhelming smell of coffee beans that assault your senses, my god, you find yourself wondering what life will bring you.

Somehow you make it, a tiny apartment, you and your cousin, who is now 7. You don't know how you manage it, barely making enough, but he seems happy, and you are too. Unless Cat is on your mind, which seems to be always, which makes you confused. You nearly stumble into a table and quite literally almost break it when you realize she's there. Waiting in line to order a coffee. You gather attention when you stumble, of course, and keep walking with your head down to the back to get your folded apron, muttering some Kryptonian curses under your breath, then clock in and make your way behind the counters to work, and conveniently you are in line to step up to the counter. You hope to god that you get to make a drink before she gets to the front, but whatever good luck have you ever had?

When she steps up to the counter, a 5 dollar bill in her manicured fingers, you whisper your greeting, a simple what could I get for you?, and everyone barely hears you. You don't hear you. You're hearing songs again, angels singing loudly about stars and beautiful eyes, and her lips part at the sight of you.

You haven't seen each other in more than a year, though clearly she hasn't forgotten you either. Her eyes are cold and hard as diamonds, and you notice the barest inkling of wrinkles which she perfectly hides with what has to be thousands of dollars worth of makeup, you can practically smell the money on her.

"I'll take a small latte with no foam and only half the vanilla. Oh, coconut milk in that." She saves you from your stumble, and if your heart hadn't been shouting at you to befriend her, to tell her something you don't dare admit, well, you might actually touch the right button on the till.

Eventually you manage to get it right, on the third try, and you can't hide the blush as she walks off, smiling as you hand the change back to her. Was that a spark when your fingers brushed hers? It certainly felt like flames.


	7. Honor (snapshot, Kara)

It takes a while, ages really, to convince yourself that this is the right decision. You know you're putting yourself in extreme danger on this world and every other world by revealing that you actually have powers like flight and laser vision and insane strength. But on Krypton you were told that the highest calling you could get was honouring your people, the House of El.

El mayarah, they say. Stronger together.

On Krypton at your age, 20 now, you would have been a Striper, a tech savvy guard in charge of the House of El, to maintain the structure of the kingdom while you honor your title and move up to take the throne. In a few years you would have taken it. On Earth, this prehistoric world, you work in a coffee shop to earn barely enough pay to maintain a small apartment, and you smile at the situation you're in.

It's a drastic 180 from what you were supposed to be doing, and what your apparent calling was in life. But you know one thing still. You smirk at the realization as you step into the late evening sun of this city that is your home, and sigh as you pass crowds of children and couple on the sidewalk.

You were meant to honor your people. It was your calling. And that's the one thing you will still do. You lost Krypton, you lost everyone you loved. You lost your life. And now you will do the one thing you still can. You will honor your world. And you think you know how.

These powers you've been given, or, blessed with, are with you for a reason.

You've decided now, that you're going to use these powers. These gifts. You're going to do what you were chosen to. Even if it's not Krypton. You were chosen to be a protector. A hero. That's exactly what you were chosen to do. That's what you'll be.

You smile behind a crowd, your fingers holding onto your plaid shirt at the collar, hiding the dark blue beneath. It's no suit, not by a long shot. But it's your supersuit. And for now, it feels brilliant.

When you get to your neighbourhood, you know Kal is fine, he knows how to care for himself. You smile and duck into an alleyway, and when your sure nobody has seen you, you take of your plaid blouse, revealing the bodysuit beneath, stark vibrant blue compared to the pale grey plaid you've been wearing. You do the same with the rest of your clothing, and in a few seconds you're in the sky above the city. Pop le are staring blatantly, and you wave shyly. Because this is your city. And from this day forward, you will protect it with your life.


	8. Angels&Demons (snapshots, Kara&Cat)

(Kara)

You smile and look at the people around you, taking pictures, talking, some screaming, everyone shocked beyond anything they've ever seen. How could you be real, they ask. How are you possible?

You glance through the crowd and notice some familiar faces from people you know, and are glad for your mask. Lois is right, you need to be the city's hero, you need to do what you can as your powers allow you to, but you need to be protected.

These people can't know who you truly are. Not really. They can know the hero, as a saviour, as an angel, but not as Kara. _Never_ , as Kara. You smile meekly, waving at everyone, and hover as you turn in an ark, staring at them all, taking it in.

Juno, the bakery boy who has a crush on you. Mark, the friendly neighbour. Oscar, the guard who knows you so well. So many friendly faces, you count, and then... you stop.

And stare.

Cat.

You stare blatantly, eyes locked to hers, and the pure shock and bewilderment on her face. You don't dare smile, you can't afford the chance of a connection made, but with her here, somehow you feel... safe. And that sounds sick even to you. You're the hero now, and she makes you feel safe. What irony.

But you still can't look away, even when she lifts her phone and snaps one steady clear photo after another, the flashes bright in your eyes. You're seeing nothing besides her, and damn, everything else is fading into nothing, white compared to the sudden complete light of her.

You're heart is racing, tripping over itself. You're head is hazy and you feel unsteady. You're body is suddenly overheated. And you know it's not because your flying. It's because of her. Lois told you these things, and you know it happens. But you never thought it would happen to you. With her.

You don't want to know, and you might cry from it, tears in your eyes suddenly. Because your in love with her, you realize now. And that's sad, because you know you can't ever talk to her, because she can't know you. She's dangerous, and that hurts, because it's the first hint of happiness you've had since you left Krypton.

You fight back your tears as she takes one shot after another, flashes blinding you, and stand tall, clenching your fists. Hero's don't cry, and that's what you have to be now.

—

(Cat)

You knew the second you saw the metallic blue and gold, the bodytight top and matching blue tights, along with gold pump heels, that she would be spectacular. You knew that instantly. Within two hours of seeing her, you have that shaky image you took of her on the paper, on the cover. People love you for it, congratulate you for it, and you want to revel in the beauty of the success. You always have.

You should be able to put the story away now and focus on the next one, but something keeps you stuck on her image. Long thick blonde hair in the wind, red painted lips, half her face covered by a beautifully unusual mask. There's something about her that keeps dragging you back, telling you something. She looks... like someone you know. But you can't predict who she is.

You don't know her. That you can count on. How could you know her? But damn, she looks so... those eyes bore into the camera lens, staring straight at you, practically screaming in vibrant color. You can't not stare at them, it's like she knows you somehow. The way she stopped when she spotted you, just barely, stuns you. How could she know you?

"Catherine?"

You look up at the person who walks into your office and smile, placing the cover photo down for the thousandth time, meeting your boss's eyes.

"Yes Mr. White?"

"I think it's time for you to spread your wings, Cat. I know where you want to be, and I think it's finally time, with this kind of cover story. Good job, Catherine Grant. I'm granting you what you deserve, you have definitely earned it. Go catch your dreams, you definitely know how, and now is the time.

—

Two weeks later, (Cat)

The name of the one that starts your company off with a hit, a spark, a name. She's celestial, special, unearthly. And so is the moment when you buy your first $1000 fountain pen. Your victory pen. Your congratulatory gift. As of today, you are Cat Grant. Owner and CEO to the upcoming and new CatCo Worldwide Media.

You tell yourself it's all too real, and inside you are happy. You are very very happy. But you feel like that happiness is due to the new things in this city. And maybe they are. Your first big scoop, the groundbreaking opening to your life. All of it is due to the new hero of National City. Her name is hard to pronounce, Khehth, you think, but even after hearing it blared across a billion airwaves and news works, including yours, you still can't pronounce it. And for some reason, you still keep picturing the girl. The blue eyed girl that calls herself Kara. Just Kara. And her boy. Clark. Just Clark.

It makes no sense to think of her in this second, but you do, regardless, as you stand outside with your pen and watch as this Khehth stands in the middle of the street, her 10th appearance in 14 days, after fighting off something that you can't even begin to contemplate.

She stands tall, shoulders back, so authoritative, and her outfit a wild colour wheel of madness.

You lift your phone from your bag and snap a few shots of her, for your next magazine cover, she always ends up on the cover and with a full gallery, and she turns to you slowly, but not quite. Nobody else is here this time, everyone fled in the face of that... alien?, and she keeps eye contact with you.

You feel your heart beating out of your chest, and feel goosebumps rise on your skin at her beautiful wild eyes, blue as diamonds, and her hand comes to her mask.

You gasp audibly, and she looks at your phone intently, and as if possessed you put it away, sensing that this, isn't for the news. It's for you and you alone. You want more than life to know why.

The mask lifts slowly, and you stare in shock, watching her fingers lift the mask to sweep over thick blond hair, and you get a glimpse of blue eyes and a shy familiar grin, and nearly drop your pen and your bag and everything else.

Kara.


End file.
